


odyssey

by orpheus_under_starlight



Series: to walk alongside you [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Oneshot Series, Original Fifth Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Twin Byleths, no it isn't narratively convenient, this is more cracky than my other fe work, yes they have the same name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheus_under_starlight/pseuds/orpheus_under_starlight
Summary: Not comprehending the enormity of her situation is a lot easier than actually acknowledging it and dealing with it. Byleth is happy enough to have a father who keeps track of her and learns her body language, happy enough to have a brother, however mysterious he is, so she decides not to mention the whole “living another life” thing to anyone.At least until Claude starts trying to figure out what the deal is with her and her distant stare.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: to walk alongside you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646458
Comments: 2
Kudos: 87





	odyssey

When she’s young, she dreams of a world built on a level playing field.

The one she came from wasn’t anything like that. Her father learns to get her to talk by asking her about it—however dubious he might be, he seems to take her stories, historical and otherwise, as factual. A part of her make, sure as his blood flows in her veins.

_There were seven continents and one was made of ice. Centuries of men using one another for gain and starting wars for coin passed, and I learned it all in a classroom on an island, a child between three worlds. I had no country, no home. I learned to read before I learned to walk. My parents loved me, Father, but nothing could ever replace my mother. We lived through so much together. For most of my life, I only had them._

_It’s not so different, Father. Being here with you and Brother._

_But their mission was one of peace._

_No, that’s just the way things are in this land. I understand. What I wanted to say... I’m grateful, that you’ve taught us the blade._

_I always wanted to wield a sword in that life. But I was small and sickly even when I came of age, and technology was far beyond the use of such weaponry._

_Why I’m here... I don’t know. Do we ever?_

_...True._

_Father... I still dream of a peaceful world. Fodlan is like the land I forged my adulthood in. Division by class, by race, by religion. Imagine if we could change that. If we could break down those walls and build a world where none of that matters. A world better than the one that came before._

_I know. We’re mercenaries. Maybe I’m too idealistic, with the blood I have on my hands._

_But I think being human means living for something._

_Even if my heart will never beat._

_...Don’t worry, Father. I know neither of us had any choice in the matter._

She makes the effort, this time, because Jeralt is trying too. It quickly becomes a rare thing for one to be without the other—and she quickly learns that her father’s mercenaries, hardened as they are, can’t resist the sight of her and her silent brother tagging along in all Jeralt’s endeavors. From childhood she and Byleth become many things: camp mascots, symbols of morale, a niece and a nephew to be cherished and spoiled. Some of them treat her like the child they never had; others like a little sibling, and a choice few see closer to the truth of her than any of them except Jeralt himself.

As for her and her father, the world between them is a secret thing, bound up in ruminations on the past and training and tactics, a space where Byleth can simply be in a way she never could anywhere else. She grows to love him.

_This is for you, Father._

_I used to be an artist. I wasn't very successful. But I liked what I did. Look at the shading._

_Wait--why are you--it's not_ that _big a deal--_

_Father!_

Byleth thinks it might have been kinder if she didn't already know how the story goes--kinder to her, at least, to stay and selfishly love him, to work hard to be his right-hand man without any idea of what is yet to come. All the stars in the sky couldn't rid her of the innate desire to be useful. Even though in this life she feels everything as if through a fogged-up looking glass, the dullness of her emotional expression hasn't lessened the intensity of her feelings--and the need to be competent, to be the best there can be, has only intensified knowing what lies ahead.

"What are you so afraid of?" Jeralt asks her sometimes, when she seeks out his presence and curls up at his side and drapes his cloak around her shoulders. Unspoken is something that he's held behind his tongue since he had to train her out of prioritizing him above all else in battle: _why are you so afraid for me?_

Byleth only ever leans her cheek on his shoulder. "Everything, but I can't let it stop me."

He only sighs at that. In battle, she knows, even the tells she usually has for her anxiety go out the window. She never _seems_ fearful. 

But every so often, she can feel Sothis stirring within her. Looking out at the world through her eyes.

As she grows older, it happens more and more. Until one night in Remire Village: _Father, Brother, I had the dream again. The one on the battlefield. But there was a girl this time, on a throne._

_Can we see what history books the next town we hit has?_

She remembers too late what the moon and the seasons are trying to tell her--Keril runs in with an urgent matter for them to deal with, and she can feel the world spiraling from her fingers as she realizes that this is it. 

Her first thought when she sets eyes on the three students waiting outside with Serris is that they look young. The second is more a feeling than a string of words--an absurd sensation of disassociation from her present, seeing herself in third person as she walks up behind Jeralt and her brother, standing in her customary position at their side.

Three sets of curious eyes flicker to her, then to her father, then to her brother. Their introductions fly past her, preoccupied as she is with the beginning of her own personal hell; she already knows their names anyways, knows that they need protection from bandits, knows that all three are watching her to see what she can do. 

They’ll see. People always do. After that, they tend to stay away from her.

(But as they go to protect Remire Village from the bandits, she notices Claude glancing back at her with curiosity. With intent.)

(She knows none of this is going to be easy.)

-

  
  


Instead of Edelgard, it’s Claude she has to shove aside.

“You did this on purpose,” Sothis realizes as she rises from her throne to scold her. All her anger drains away, but none of the indignance. She stares at Byleth, stares at her brother, stares at their clasped hands. “Why?”

“I want to change the world,” Byleth says.

Sothis raises her brows. “So you nearly got yourself killed.”

“That... wasn’t why,” she admits. “Claude interests me.”

“You knew of him in that other life, then, did you not? You must remember that which is not real in a reality is not always the same as that which is real in another. Do not stake your life on a mere boy—and one who wants to use you, at that!”

But Byleth shrugs. “People have always used me.”

“Yes,” Sothis muses, looking at her like she is a particularly interesting bug. “I suppose they have. All except for your father, Jeralt, is that true? And—your mother...”

Her heart clenches painfully, dead as it is in her chest—it’s more like a phantom memory of a heart that once could clench. She says nothing.

“I see. You are a strange one, aren’t you? But... I like that. Your strangeness is refreshing to me. And I suppose I can’t just let you die. Very well, then. I shall turn back the hands of time. Do try not to get yourself killed this time.”

The world dissolves into black and blue whorls.

-

“That was remarkable,” Dimitri says after the battle. He is the picture of excited respect—a young man just grown out of a boy, accustomed to battle already, but always appreciative of new sights. Byleth knows the sight of her and her brother blazing across the battlefield is something to behold; she doesn’t exactly need to be told. But both Claude and Edelgard nod, Claude’s gaze more intent than ever. She might have another lifetime of memories in hand, but none of those days, equally as lonely as the life she’s lived here, can tell her what that look in his eyes means. 

Edelgard, on the other hand, looks intrigued and calculating and intent all at once. It’s the kind of look that only someone who’s willing to die for a dream can give.

Byleth only waits, and her brother seems to be of the same mind. A piece of Jeralt’s more cynical advice lingers in her mind:  _ give them enough rope to hang themselves with. _

Sure enough: “It’s true. I’ve never seen anyone blaze across the battlefield the way you have. With that in mind, I have a request—”

“Halt, Edelgard.” Dimitri crosses his arms. “Allow me to finish my request first, as I have already begun to make it.”

_ Would you still be trying if you knew that the two of us have been called the Ashen Demons?  _ Byleth wonders, and then realizes it’s a silly question. Of course they would. These are future heads of state—three people who have never had the luxury of being children. Especially not when the future of their countries have been at stake for longer than they’ve been alive.

_ Pay attention,  _ Sothis snipes.  _ They have just asked you where you hail from. Or, rather, your allegiance. _

“The Alliance,” Byleth says, offhanded, somewhat regretful that her dulled face and flat voice offer little in the way of affection. 

Her brother nods, more to lend support to her words than anything else.

Claude looks... vaguely interested, but mostly suspicious. “Oh yeah? Were you born there?”

“I don’t know. We’ve taken a lot of jobs there.” She thinks about it for a moment. “More than eighty.”

“...Eighty?” Edelgard and Dimitri question at the exact same time. They exchange mutually derisive glances.

Byleth doesn’t see the need to respond, exactly, when they have the information right in front of them. As the royal pair dissolve into bickering, Claude sidles over to her with a sly glance. “It’s aaalways fun with Their Highnesses on patrol,” he drawls, easy as you please, and nothing about him is matched by the insincerity in his eyes. “But I suppose I’m obligated to be happy that you consider the Alliance home. Still, it’s interesting. You don’t know where you were born?”

She shakes her head. For all she and Jeralt share between them, she’s not blind to the fact that he still has secrets. Some he thinks he’s kept from her; others he truly has kept from her, and while she would love to know, Jeralt tends to have reasons behind his actions that have incredibly solid foundations. 

“Fascinating,” Claude says, and it might be the most honest thing he’s said all night. “I guess it wouldn’t matter when you’ve spent your life on the road. Just like you might not need two individual names when you and your brother operate as one unit. One Byleth in combat, if you will. Say, you think they’ll let up any time in the next century?”

“Perhaps when you become capable of shutting your mouth,” Edelgard says with visible exasperation in the slope of her shoulders and the furrowing of her brows.

In the safety of her mind, Byleth turns and gives Sothis an even-eyed stare. Sothis harrumphs on her throne. _ I know how all this shall come to pass just as much as you do, sharing this space with you as I somehow am. What do you wish for me to say? Do you wish for me to tie the millstone around your neck, that you might drown faster? _

_ No, _ Byleth thinks back, feeling her brother’s attention to their exchange. He’s always been able to hear Sothis just as she has, but if he’s ever talked to her personally, Byleth wouldn’t know.  _ It’s just bewildering that this is the life I live. _

_ Well, we do not choose our fates. We take action. Sometimes that is all we can do. _

_ One thing in front of the next? _

Sothis hums, already falling asleep again.  _ Yes. Just like your mother used to say... _

-

“Look,” Claude says, crossing his arms behind his back with a catty smile. “Personally, I don’t mind if you’re Byleth and Byleth. In fact, I think that’s a pretty novel way of confusing your enemies—a real diamond of a scheme. But—and this might come as a surprise—most people? They’ve got individual names. Like your dad. Know any other Jeralts?”

“Yes, but only one,” her brother says for them both. Claude blinks, as if he hadn’t quite expected him to speak.

Byleth nods. “He had darker hair.”

“And that’s the distinguishing factor for you,” Claude says more than he asks.

“Yes.”

He shakes his head. “I mean, it works. You won’t find me complaining. It’ll just be interesting when you’re both teaching the Golden Deer.”

Byleth and Byleth exchange glances.

_ He knows what you want already,  _ her brother’s eyes say.

She shakes her head the slightest bit.  _ It’s a guess and a proposition. And, I think, an invitation. Needless. But he thinks he needs it. _

_ Only the two of you would think to use the space we share as a communication device,  _ Sothis interjects. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to your telepathic communication and make my way to the classroom. Unless you’d like to meet my fellow Deer?” Claude suggests.

“I’ll go,” Byleth says, stepping forward. A few of them passed by when she and her brother had been walking with her father—she knows enough to recognize the symbol of the Leicester Alliance on their personal apparel, even if Jeralt has kept them busy enough that she doesn’t know as much as she would like.

Claude brightens a bit. It still doesn’t match his eyes. “And you?”

“I’m going to explore the monastery,” her brother says with a brief bow. He takes off without further preamble, breaking into a determined run not unlike the one he mowed down the battlefield at Remire Village with.

“Yeesh. Look at him go.” Her new aquaintance’s brows are furrowed, as if he can’t quite figure something out and he would very much like to. “You wouldn’t think you two have the amount of energy you do from your demeanours. I guess that speaks to that one adage—you know what they say about assumptions...”

_ Witty.  _ Sothis sounds like acid, but there’s an amusement simmering deep inside her.

She isn’t sure what flavor of blankness her face is showing, but he takes one look at her and shakes his head. “Yeah, never mind. Let’s just get to the Golden Deer homeroom, shall we? I’ll give you a tour along the way.”


End file.
